


April showers (bring May flowers)

by Codee21



Series: Let’s call it Parkner, because Parley sounds like Parsley [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28230594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codee21/pseuds/Codee21
Summary: May dies, Peter breaks, and Harley is there to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker
Series: Let’s call it Parkner, because Parley sounds like Parsley [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764172
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	1. The Tell-Tale Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how many chapters this will be, or how long it’ll be between updates. I’m in the process of losing a parent right now - but who needs to pay for therapy when I can write my feels and get internet validation!
> 
> Was going to add this to one of my previous Parkner universes, but I couldn’t bear to hurt my boys like this.

May Parker died on a Tuesday, about an hour before sunset.

On some subconscious level, Peter knew before Karen had even finished telling him that he had an incoming call from Harley. His fiancé had seen how much he’d been struggling lately, as the health of his last living relative slowly but surely declined. He knew how much Peter needed those few hours swinging through the city each day to clear his head - to stay **sane**. It was the only time he could be convinced to leave May’s bedside, the only time the sound of her failing heart didn’t follow him from room to room - inescapable thanks to his heightened senses. Even now its unsteady rhythm pulsed in his ears, his overactive brain reconstructing the beat from memory to torture him, like some kind of Tell-Tale Heart bullshit. 

Despite that soundtrack gnawing at the edge of his consciousness, his mind was quieter thirty stories up than it ever would be with his feet on solid ground. And Harley knew that. He wouldn’t interrupt that with a phone call...

... unless he had to. 

He didn’t want to answer.

Answering would make it real. 

So he didn’t. 

Not for a little while, at least. Instead he let muscle memory guide him back to Queens, to the apartment building he’d shared with May throughout his childhood and teenage years, through winter and summer breaks in college, until he’d moved across town with Harley just over a year ago. There he perched on the rooftop and watched the sun slowly sink behind the skyscrapers. It was beautiful. The sky was cloudy - it was mid-April, now, and they were long overdue for a good soaking rain that would jumpstart the growth of Central Park’s gardens. The long streaks of clouds slowly tinted pink, then orange, then deep red as the sun continued to drop. 

Only once the last rays of light had faded did he return Harley’s call. 

“She’s gone?” he asked when Harley picked up on the second ring, with a forced calmness that surprised even himself.

“I’m so sorry, Peter.”

There was a beat of silence before Harley continued. “Do you want to come back to the Tower? Or should I come to you?”

“Can we go home?” Peter half-whispered. All at once he desperately wanted to get out of the suit that had been his solace only hours prior, wanted to be able to give into the wet pressure he felt slowly building behind his eyes, but the thought of returning to the building that contained the room where his aunt had spent the last few weeks of her life suffering… no. He wanted to put as much distance between himself and that room as possible.

“Of course,” replied Harley softly. “Meet you there?”

He nodded before remembering that Harley couldn’t see him. “Yeah. See you soon.”


	2. Blue Ribbon

Peter’s grief came in waves. Once he could bring himself to leave the roof of the apartment in Queens and began to swing towards his home with Harley Downtown, it was all he could do to keep himself from breaking down. He fought to keep his breaths even, biting down on his bottom lip until he tasted blood. Just a little farther. Just a few more minutes, and then he could give into the ache in his chest that was begging to be released. 

But once he’d arrived, that deep well of pain that had made him feel like he was drowning just moments ago was … gone. 

Maybe it helped that this apartment had no memories of May, he reasoned. She’d visited once, when he and Harley had first moved in and she’d thrown them a house-warming party, but after that he’d always made the commute to Queens whenever he missed her. After all, his method of transportation was a hell of a lot faster than the subway. 

It was easy to let himself forget here.

And so for a moment that’s exactly what he did - he stripped off the suit, got in the shower, and gave himself permission to forget everything but the pounding of hot water against his skin and the scent of Harley’s sandalwood shampoo that he blatantly stole. The bottle of his own preferred scent (apple) was back at Stark Tower, where he’d been living for the past few weeks. Harley had too, of course, but during that time he’d been stealing shampoo and deodorant from Peter. So really, he was just returning the favor here. 

By the time he’d convinced himself to leave the protective numbness of the shower, toweled off, and slipped into clean sweatpants, Harley had returned and was sitting on the bed waiting for him. He held his arms open, and Peter crossed the room to take him up on the silent offer. The warmth of his fiancé’s embrace usually soothed whatever sadness or fear or anxiety plagued his waking thoughts or woke him from sleep in the early morning hours, but right now it did little to quell the aching pressure in his chest that was growing by the second. Still, he couldn’t bear the thought of putting even an inch of space between them. Some part of him that was more in touch with the turmoil he was unintentionally suppressing told him that leaving Harley’s arms would undo him completely. 

A clap of thunder from outside made him jump. Harley ran a hand through his still-damp curls - a comforting gesture that Peter always appreciated no matter the occasion. “You can let it out, darlin’,” whispered Harley as he pressed a kiss to Peter’s temple. “You’re shaking. Let yourself feel what you’re feeling. I’m here.”

In the end, it was the stuffed bear on top of the dresser that did it. Peter could feel the ghost of the texture of its dark blue fur under his fingers just by looking at it. It had been a gift from May and Uncle Ben, when he’d first moved in with them - a small piece of comfort until the funeral of his parents was over and the grief of their passing lifted enough to go pick out more things for his new room. He knew the places it was worn bald from years of love like he knew his own name, despite not having slept with it in god knows how long. 

They had taken so much care to make him feel welcome in his new home, to support him as he grieved for his parents - as much as a five year old could, anyway. At some point in its long life it had lost the ribbon tied around its neck, and Peter remembered May going to three different craft stores to find a new one in the perfect shade to match. 

For years it had been relegated to a seat on a shelf, until it made a reappearance following Ben’s sudden death. And now with the loss of the second to last Parker, his last surviving guardian, it was the only real comfort he still had from his childhood.

Because May was gone.

She was  **gone** . 

Another clap of thunder broke the silence. The dam broke with it, and Peter heard more than felt himself sob. 

May Parker was dead. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kind words are much appreciated right now ❤️ I usually have a pretty thick skin with respect to criticism, but I really truly do not right now so please be gentle.


End file.
